1827. On the other hand I would like to see the nun’s habit retained in all its details even if we feel only contempt for all of the teaching and doctrines of the church. What about the music? Speaking for myself, I can’t stand to hear any folk music played on the guitar coming out of a Roman Catholic Church in a stupid attempt to update the mass to around 1961 and Joan Baez. I want to hear a mass by Palestrina or Victoria.
1828. If they can’t provide me with polyphonic choral music, then I want to hear pure Gregorian chant floating out from the cloisters of a religious establishment. I am willing to tolerate the fact that the music may be being piped over the P.A. system of the church, it doesn’t have to be a live performance.
1829. So, there I am, walking down the street, let’s say I am in Rome, for the sake of the argument. Out of the corner of my eye I notice a very old church. Since I am an art historian I instantly begin to notice myriad details about the church despite myself. It is impossible for me to turn off that analytical voice in my head that will begin to dissect and analyze every aspect of the poor little church’s appearance.
1830. The church is a small one and not very important. It is not even possible to find a description of it in a conventional tourist guidebook. It is a modest structure and never makes any claims to be considered important in the history of architecture as say some edifice of Bramante, crowded with tourists who have read about it in books about the history of architecture.